Siblings
by stilljustme
Summary: A hunter and a werewolf walk into a bar… and don't try to kill each other. Why? Because they have bigger problems.
1. Chapter 1

**2001**

He'd left. The bastard really had left. And this time, it wouldn't be for a couple of days like when he'd been fourteen – fourteen, more baby than anything else, and still he had caused Dean deeper fear than any poltergeist could (and those bitches could be _really_ damn creepy) – no, this time it would be… forever.  
"Stanford." It sounded like a curse, a curse that took Sammy away from the family, away from him. Except that it wasn't. Sammy had _chosen_ to leave.  
"Something strong." He waved at the bartender, his eyes riveted on the wooden counter. That egoistical idiot… how could he abandon his father and brother after all those years they'd been protecting him? How could he leave them knowing about all those monsters out there?

"Bastard."  
"Huh?" The man at his right side shot him a glance, then quickly looked back as the bartender returned with a glass. Dean downed it and ordered a next one before he added, "My little brother. I've spent my whole life watching over him. And now he says he doesn't want me to. Says he doesn't need me to." The second glass went down, burning and soothing at the same time. "My whole life. And that's his way of saying grace."  
To his right he heard a growl, but that very likely was due to the fact that while Dean now got his second refill, the place in front of his neighbor was still empty.  
He didn't care. About the world's opinion, about Sammy's ego trip… he was done with it.  
"Maybe I shouldn't have tried so hard to keep him alive."  
"Shut up!"

Dean's gun was out and directed at the man's heart in a heartbeat – exactly the time the other needed to wrap his claws around Dean's neck. "I said _shut up_."  
Dean froze. He was dead. There was no way he could kill a werewolf on his own. Even one as young as this – he seemed to be even younger than Sam.  
"Want a drink? I can get you one."  
The grip around his throat tightened. "I want you to shut up."  
"Why don't you just kill me? I can see in your eyes you've done it before", Dean hissed back. He was done being hurt by freaking teenagers. Especially teenagers with these sad puppy eyes.

The other's face changed, and for a moment, Dean was sure he'd die. Then suddenly the wolf disappeared and the boy's eyes filled with tears. "I had to."  
Dean frowned. What would dad say to that? He had just hit the wolf's soft spot. And given that the boy was handsome... "Because she wanted it?"  
"Because she was in pain." The claws disappeared but the boy's fingers remained around Dean's throat. "She begged me to release her. I didn't... I woul have done everything for her."  
A wolf with a broken heart. Nice tactic. "Sorry. But what exactly is my part in that?" His left hand was moving to the cell in his back pocket. If he could only reach his father…  
"Don't talk about your brother like that." Finally, the other let go of his throat, his hands were shaking. "Don't you ever dare to talk about him like that."  
Dean froze. What had that monster to say about Sammy? "My brother is no business of yours."  
"Watching over him is your job."  
"What the hell are you, super nanny?" Maybe he shouldn't have drunk so much in such a short time. The room blurred, or was that whiny werewolf really crying again? Sam would've totally liked that guy.  
"Hey, you listen to me." The young man's hands found his collar again. "You are his big brother. It is your job to protect him. Don't fail. Trust me. You don't want to."  
Dean stared at the hands on his body. The guy was fast. And obviously driven by that insane instinct to protect his pack no matter what - Bobby had told him about it, about how strong the bond between wolves could be. So strong that sometimes, they could feel it when the other was in danger. Actually, Dean had kind of liked that idea. God and monsters knew there was nothing he wouldn't do for his family. And Bobby, of course. If they'd have a pack, Bobby would surely be in it, too. "Because you're gonna kill me?"  
"Because you will wish I would."

Dean stared at the young man. It was absolutely forbidden - it was very likely lethal - to feel sympathy for your enemies. But he'd seen enough to know the pain in the other's eyes was real. He had failed his little brother, obviously.  
An icy fist clutched his heart as he realized what failure would mean in his case... Sammy.

"Dean Winchester." He reached out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation (and with a look on his face that mirrored exactly what the hunter inside of Dean screamed), the werewolf took it. "Derek Hale."  
"Becaon Hill Hale?" They'd heard about the case, a whole family burnt. Until that moment, nobody had known they were werewolves. Even Bobby was surprised – and Sam had asked him if that didn't mean that not every supernatural being was evil. With Bobby, it would have been okay to discuss it. But dad had heard, and he'd gone mad.  
Two weeks later, Sam had told them about his decision to go to Stanford.

Derek looked down, weighed down grief. "Yes." He opened his mouth but then only shook his head, and Dean nodded in understanding. Some pain could not be brought into words. Some pain could not be eased.

"About that offer from before", Derek finally said, straightening up. "Yeah, I want a drink."  
Dean waved at the bartender. "Two for my friend and me." When the man frowned at Derek, Dean put another dollar note onto the counter.  
Derek raised his glass. "To the dead."  
Dean blinked when he realized his eyes were filled with tears, too. "To the dead."

* * *

 _ **I don't know how old Derek's supposed to be, or how old he was when his family was killed, so I don't know if this meeting is possible. I just like the thought of it. :) Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thank you so much to**_ **Goddess Dana** _ **for reviewing, and you guys for reading and favoriting… I really didn't expect that. I hope you continue to like it! I'm not sure about the year but talking in seasons, this is in Supernatural season four (right at the beginning) and still pre-series for Teen Wolf.**_

The next time Dean met Derek Hale, things had changed. A lot.  
Not so much for the werewolf, though – he was old enough to drink, finally, and he made use of that right in a loud and boasting way, but other than that, he seemed the same. Same air of arrogance, same hard grin, same old leather jacket – Hale senior's, judging from how carefully Derek was not to get it stained with alcohol.  
The lone wolf had grown up. _And probably had formed a pack of his own_ , the hunter in Dean hissed. _While you spent your days screwing up. You could have killed him. You should have killed him._

Then Derek saw him, and waved. For a second the expression on his face turned to a snarl, then back to a smile. "Changed your mind about killing me?", he asked casually as Dean sat down next to him, his muscular body tensing.  
Wordlessly, Dean ordered a new round and drank, ordered again. Derek's smile grew. "Like in the good old days, huh?"  
"What good old days?"  
Derek shook his head, still smiling. "How's your brother?"  
Dean sighed. "Alive." He stared at his empty glass, wondering how much he'd need to make sense of everything. Or to forget it all.  
"Well", Derek motioned for another drink, "that's more than I can say about mine."  
"He shouldn't be."  
Derek frowned.  
"Not my decision", Dean quickly added, still not meeting the wolf's eye. "He was stabbed. Right into the heart, didn't have a chance."  
The werewolf gasped. "How did he…"  
"I made a deal. With a demon." Once again, Dean wondered what it was about Derek Hale that made him trust him.  
Probably the fact that the wolf was the living example of what the alternative to the deal would have meant - loneliness. For the freaking rest of his life.

Derek leant closer. "You made a deal and your brother lived? How?"  
"I traded my soul for Sam's life. I got one more year to live, then I went to hell."  
The other stared at him. "How many drinks did you have?"  
Dean shook his head.  
The werewolf hesitated only for a second. "How did you do it?"  
Dean looked at him. "Hell's real, man. And it's worse… it is so much worse than what you think of it."  
Derek shrugged. "I think I know what it's…"  
"No, you don't, that's my point!" Frustrated, Dean hit his fist on the table. "You have no idea what it's like. It's…" he shook his head. "It's hell, man. It's just…"  
"Would you do it again?"  
Dean closed his eyes. Avoiding that question was one of the reasons he was walking home instead of stealing a car. Sooner or later, Sam would ask him.

"I see." Derek emptied his glass. "How did you get back?"  
"Wish that I knew." Dean buried his face in his hands. After a few seconds, he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, not matching at all to the biting tone in his voice. "I'll pity you when I've got time for it."  
Involuntarily, Dean grinned. "What are you going to do?"

After a moment of silence, Derek said: "Going home."  
Dean looked up. "Beacon Hills?"  
The werewolf nodded grimly. "Something's wrong there. And I've heard…" he shrugged. "Anyway, it's about time. Maybe you…"  
"Don't say it", Dean growled, causing the other to laugh quietly as he ordered another round. "You know, I'm actually happy to see you back on earth, Winchester."  
"Well, that's cause you're crazy." Dean held up the glass and nodded in thanks.  
Derek held his glass up as well. "To home?"  
"Son of a bitch!" Dean shook his head. But of course, the dog was right. He had to get back as fast as possible. Whatever scary things waited for him, whatever Ruby had done to Sam… he needed to know. He needed to see the kid, needed to see with his own eyes that Sammy was alive and well, and not dead like Derek's family was.  
"To home."

* * *

Three days later, Dean dumped the stolen truck at a gas station to walk the last miles. No need to make it too easy for whatever might be following him. He could hear it. Crawling, clicking, chewing,... and every once in a while the sizzling of burning flesh. When he closed his eyes, he could not only hear but also see it. Hell was everywhere, and though he told himself he was hallucinating, he lost his certainty about it. What if escaping had been the dream, and he was still stuck in hell?  
Then a shadow leaped over him, and instincts took over as he recognized its shape. Werewolf. Not completely evolved, still looking more human than dog, but it was enough. He lurched out of the claws' way, fumbling for the metal rod he'd picked up on the way. Not silver, but at least it would slow his enemy down.  
His enemy who was a girl. A thrashing, howling, seventeen year old girl with a familiarly shaped face. "I will kill you", she hissed, then screamed as he nailed her to the soft earth. "I will… tear you ap… art…"  
"Yeah? I don't think so." Dean reached for the silver ring he'd found in the car's glove box and slowly moved it across the girl's cheek. She gasped but didn't scream, and the stubbornness in her eyes confirmed his suspicions. Of course, all werewolves were stubborn. Stubborn, proud, and all in all not too clever. Some part of their brain must be still stuck at animal level.

"What's your name?"  
"What?"  
"What's your name?" He kept the silver on her skin as he carefully examined the girl's right hand. There it was, on the inside of her index finger as it was on Derek's, a small birth mark formed like a crescent. Cheesy but remarkable.  
"Cora Hale", she said, calm for only a second before she bolted upwards, sending the ring flying away. "Have you killed my family?"  
"No." But of course she didn't believe him. Again, instinct took over as Dean fired at the girl. Not his choice of weapon but it had come with the truck, and he hadn't felt like being picky. Hit by five loads of bruised grain, Cora fell down. Dean reloaded and waited till her screams died down, then he said: "Your brother thinks you're dead. He's on his way back to Beacon Hills."  
"Derek… Derek's alive?" The pain disappeared and incredulous joy filled the girl's face, making her almost pretty. For a wolf, that was. "How is he?"

Her distrust was gone. She didn't care about him being a hunter anymore, Dean realized, all she cared for as that she might not be completely alone in this world. She was a kid who had lost her Family, and now she had a chance to find it again. Of course that was all that mattered.  
It wasn't as if he had asked for much else when the demon had agreed to bring Sam back.

"He misses you", Dean said, and then turned around. He'd risk driving the last miles. "Don't kill anybody on the way... and tell him Dean says yes, I'd do it again."


End file.
